Memento Mori
by AlcyoneSong
Summary: In death, remember me. A one shot that takes place during the story "The Onyx Throne".


**Memento Mori**

_"Time moves in one direction, memory another." - W. Gibson_

* * *

Outside an owl called, while another replied. A lone light flickers from a single window casting dancing shadows upon empty walls. A single figure sits at an old desk, quill in hand, furiously writing in a worn journal. A shock of red hair can be seen under a dark blue cap. His hands are stained from the ink, and the vellum is dirty. A single candle illuminates the room, as a moth dances around the light.

"I write this now, for in doing so I may understand myself further. What happened during my time at the Academy changed me forever. I am no longer the person I thought I was, nor will I ever be the one she wished I was. The teachers have taught me well, and my best class has to be Alchemy. Although, I fear I may not need to use it as much as I'd like to, I have another mission, that is to learn as much as I can about the forbidden spells and seek the mysterious Onyx Throne. Even now I find it difficult to write more, the mere thought of what awaits those who venture so far as to find the artifact have gone insane at the mere sight of it, or have never returned.

I wonder if this will be my own fate? I wonder if I was born merely to die, and in my pitiful life I served some use to someone. Yet, I find it difficult to imagine dying. I don't want it to hurt, and I don't want others to hurt either. I want my life to count for something.

I hate the Master. I hate Fenris that horrible wolf man! He is better to run with dogs than to walk with men! I hate the leeches that serve the Master. I hate what the Master did to me. I cannot remember it completely. Therefore, I will start with what I do remember, and maybe through this you, dear reader, may understand why I am writing this as I travel along the old cart road through the Cursed Country to that horrible barrow known as Cormathor.

I recall it was summertime, the fields were vast and the grain was waist high. I remember my mother, sister, and brother went out to help with the Lord's harvest. Our Lord was kind and he would leave a third of his land for those who worked on it. Even during a hard harvest, the standard of leaving a third remained. "A Kingdom is only as strong as the lowest serf, if the serf starves the King will soon follow." I remembered my father saying this to me one evening after a hard rain had flooded the fields and destroyed most of the Spring crops. My father was a strong man, he did not speak often, but when he did we listened. Most of the time he was not around, he had faith in me and my brother to look after my mother and sister. My mother was strong too, I remembered watching as she gave birth to my sister, and to another. I remembered the acute pain I felt that although one life was strong another was lost. My father remained quiet, he simply instructed us on what to do, and counseled my mother. I always suspected my father was something more. Yet, I could not place it. He always knew the right words to say, even though they were few.

I remember it was a brutal winter, our father had gone into the forest to hunt as the harvest was bare. A new Lord had taken control of the land and had taxed the people hard. Even the church could not feed everyone, I tried seeking a meal at mass, but there was nothing. That was when the sickness started. It happened quickly. Entire households were gone. The village stank with the stench of death. People did not wish to linger or stay, some simply just left everything they had. Others believed it was an act of God, and they beat themselves in displays throughout the towns as an act of penance. Still others gave up on God entirely, they let themselves go to abandon and lawlessness. What was the point, if one was to die tomorrow? That was how the sickness worked. It would kill in a matter days. No matter what medicine one tried to use to overcome it, nothing worked.

I remember the old wizards, they lived deep in the forest. Sometimes my mother would go to them and seek council. Often when one of us was sick. Yet even the wizards could not answer to the sickness. Eventually, they too succumbed to it and died.

My father left us.

He went hunting and never returned.

My mother died first, then my sister, finally my brother.

I remember leaving my home, I remember going to the forest and waiting to die. Then, I remember laying down upon the cold earth and looking up at the towering trees. I remember wishing that I could have saved them. I remember wishing to have a chance.

I guess I got my wish.

I remember darkness, and how it was so cold. I could not feel my body. It felt like, when you are sleeping so deeply you don't feel anything but you wake up in a different place to the one you fell asleep in. It was not painful, but it was cold. My hands and feet were very stiff, but they started to move a little. I'm not sure how long the time passed before I could move my legs and arms. I remember the last thing I could do was see. I remember I was in a dark room lit with a sort of purple glow. I heard voices. I felt scared, but unable to speak or move I simply laid still and listened. I wondered if I was in hell. The thought terrified me.

Then, I woke up again, this time in another room. I felt warm, safe, and secure. I noticed I was not hungry, nor was I in any pain. The room was bare but it had a window that looked out onto a golden pasture. There was a small bed and a table in a corner but nothing beyond that. I did not mind, I simply sat and stared at the field reveling in the warmth of the sun.

I remember walking into town. The town was very different from the one I lived in. This kingdom was called Hauvon, and the villagers were friendly and easy going. I remember walking into a tavern. I guess it was fate, but when I saw her I fell in love with her. She was a bit older than me, by a few years, but she had the most radiant smile. Her eyes sparkled like a brook in spring, and her laughter rivaled the skylark.

She was kind to me. She was unafraid of me, a stranger. She welcomed me, and spent time with me. She listened to me, and in turn I shared what I knew with her. Every day we would spend hours talking about anything and everything. I'm not sure I understand what love is, but I think I can honestly say I fell in love with her. It was not a sudden thing, but a slow sort of gradual admiration and affection built upon mutual respect.

I remember she also lost her loved ones to the sickness. She had two older brothers who looked after her, and I was thankful for them. To me, she was the sun. Warm, welcoming, and bringing light to a dark world. She certainly brought light to my world. Yet, I do not think she will ever know how she saved my soul. Perhaps that is better.

Her heart belonged to another."

He paused watching a moth dance around the flame of his candle. His eyes were wet as silent tears left their tracks along his cheeks dripping onto the table. He inhaled sharply and wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt before he continued to write.

"This is where my story changes. You see, I am not myself. I belong to The Master, and when the time comes, I will be used for the Master's purpose. My purpose is to find the location of the Onyx Throne by any and every means possible. Perhaps after I do that, the Master will let me go. Maybe then, I will be free?"

The boy put down his quill and closed the tome. He sat at the desk staring down at the yellowed pages and worn cover. Then, he stood up and walked over to the far wall of his chamber. He counted the stones until he reached a large rectangular one. He worked at moving it, but eventually it budged. A small alcove was built behind the stone and there, he placed the book. He returned the stone to its place and lay down upon a small mat. The sun bathed the sky in the soft light of dawn, as the mantle of night faded away.

The rooster crowed.


End file.
